“I’m afraid not, David.” The rector showed the telegram.
David held it a moment, and the tears flowed down his cheeks. “Poor mother! Poor little Ralph!”
“Yes, they are needing you, my boy. And we’ll get you to them just as soon as it’s possible.” The rector was silent a moment, stroking David’s shoulder, giving him time to recover his composure. “I’ll see that you are provided with money enough. There will be a carriage to take you to the station at half-past six. It’s now a quarter past five.” The rector turned to a safe in the corner of the room, and took out some money. “Here,” he said, “is fifty dollars. You must not be in any hurry about returning the amount. Good-bye, David, my boy, and God bless you.”
David went down the stairs blinded with tears. Outside it was dark except for the scattered lights along the road and the illuminated windows of the buildings. David saw the dormitory ahead and thought of the day when he had stood on the steps and received his father’s last embrace, and as he stumbled on and the lights were breaking and dancing through his tears he wished with all the passionate love of his young heart that he could have that day, just that one day, over again.
The janitor of the building brought the boy’s trunk down from the loft, and soon David was at work, not merely emptying the drawers of his wardrobe, but dismantling his room. He would never come back to this place again; that he knew.
There came presently a knock on the door. He opened it and found Wallace standing there.
“O Dave!” said Wallace and clasped his friend’s hand. He continued after a moment, “Mr. Dean sent me to see if I could do anything for you. He’s coming himself in a few minutes. Is there anything I can get for you—anything at all?”
“No, thanks, Lester. I’m pretty nearly packed. Just sit with me awhile.”
“The fellows feel awfully badly about it. Lots of them wanted to come, but [they thought maybe you’d rather be alone].”
“Yes, I think I would, except for you.”